


It's Easy To Lose Hope When The Sun Goes Dark, But Until The Day It Rises Again, We'll Be The Lights

by knightofsuperior



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragalia Lost Spoilers, If You Haven't Played Forgotten Truths This Might Not Be The One for You, Takes place sometime before the last few chapters, for obvious reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27815389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofsuperior/pseuds/knightofsuperior
Summary: When a hero falls, it's up to those he held dear to pick up the pieces.Well, them, and a pair of folks who arrived at either the best or worst possible time.
Kudos: 13





	It's Easy To Lose Hope When The Sun Goes Dark, But Until The Day It Rises Again, We'll Be The Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially planned as a TWEWY crossover, before some other ideas took over. Hopefully it's not too melodramatic-or at least, I hope it's the right amount. Enjoy.

“Stay strong, your Highness! We’re almost to the Halidom!”

Stars danced across his eyes, the night sky clearer than he’d ever seen it.

“Shit, I can’t staunch the wound! It’s too deep-the blood just keeps seeping through!”

The cool air filled his lungs...at least, in bits and pieces. It was rather difficult to take in _any_ air, if he was being honest.

“The next time I see that bastard, I’ll put an arrow right between his eyes!”

He vaguely felt...lighter. As though he was floating, bouncing up and down towards...towards where? He couldn’t make it out. He felt so sleepy...

“Your Highness! Euden, please, I beg of you! Don’t leave us!”

Leave? Why would he ever leave? He would never even humor the thought-not when…

...when what? There was something important, something he was supposed to do. He couldn’t remember.

Tilting his head slightly, he saw Luca at his side, holding something red and dripping. He recognized Ranzal’s gauntlets under his arms, holding him upright. Cleo’s staff shone with a mystic light, verdant and comforting.

His vision blurred, but he saw the tears. He had to do something. 

Euden placed a hand on Elisanne’s cheek, a smile crossing his lips. He felt her breath hitch. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, Ellie. I promise. I’ll always...”

His arm fell limp, and the last thing he heard was her scream, as the world went dark.

* * *

It was hard to hide the truth when so many saw the battle that laid Euden low. Rather than cover it up and cause a scandal (one that Dyrenell would surely swoop in to take advantage of) it was decided after a vote within the Halidom to hold a public wake. A more private funeral between Euden’s “advisors” and castle residents, would follow shortly thereafter.

“Advisors.” Goddess, how Cleo hated that word. They were comrades-in-arms, allies. They were _friends_. But the people of the kingdom looked at them and saw his inner circle, likely scheming and plotting their ascension now that their leader was out of the picture. She didn’t wish to feel this way about those who seemed just as likely to break into tears as her-but it was hard to hide whispers from Sylvan ears, even with Elisanne’s sermon in full swing. 

It was simply politics and rumor-mongering. She knew that.

It hurt nonetheless.

“-and so, we ask that the Goddess see fit to shine her light on the Prince’s soul.” Elisanne clasped her hands, lowering her head. Luca and Ranzal stood alongside her, eyes darting through the crowd as she continued. “O, you who watch us from on high, please guide the Prince to...t-to…” She let go of one of her hands, running it through her hair for a moment.

Cleo put a hand on her shoulder. 

Then, taking a breath, Elisanne choked out the last few words: “...to his eternal rest. Amen.”

A unified prayer rippled through the crowd, heads brought low as Elisanne brought her hands down to clasp the pulpit. “N-now, we would like to open the floor to those who wish to share their experiences w-with his Highness. If you could form a line next to the-”

The doors to the church burst open, slamming into the walls. A small platoon of knights stormed in, taking point at opposite sides of the entryway. Alex, from her vantage point in the rafters, drew her knife. She glanced at Laxi, on the other side of the rafters with her aim trained on the nearest knight. If they acted now, they could buy enough time to allow the citizens to evacuate through the back doors. Before either of them could move an inch, however, a shrill voice cut into the air.

“Where is he?! Where is my brother!?” Emile stormed in, pushing past his entourage as he marched towards the front of the church. “Come out, Euden! You can’t fool me-I know you’re hiding somewhere!”

A flood of murmurs washed out from the crowd, confusion evident on their faces. An older couple, in particular, shot Emile a withering glare. “How dare you?” the wife asked, her tone icy. “Is this what counts for respect for the dead from the former royal family?”

“Dead?! Ha!” Emile flung his cape to the side, scowling towards the crowd. “I’d be a fool to believe that to be the truth! ‘Oh, woe are we, our Prince on high felled by a stray arrow!’ Pitiful.” He scanned the crowd, his brow furrowing further and further with each passing second. “Euden, as loath as I am to admit it, your inability to die properly is one of your most admirable talents. Do you truly take me for that much of a knave, to believe that you could possibly…”

His words froze on the tip of his tongue as his gaze fell upon the coffin sitting mere feet from Elisanne. It was propped up, ever so slightly, so that even those at the far end of the church could see its occupant.

Euden, seventh scion of Alberia, did not stare back. His eyes were closed, his arms crossed. He was dressed in regal armor, the kind Emile saw him wear during their last real confrontation. 

Emile’s face scrunched up. “I find this jest in poor taste, Euden-and to think, someone as supposedly kind as you dragging so many into your scheme.” He sneered. “I suppose I should be proud, as it seems you finally learned something from your elders.”

“You truly think this is a joke?” Elisanne asked, her whisper only audible by virtue of the silence of the room before her.

“Of course it is! It _has_ to be!” As he strode ahead, knights following close behind, Ranzal and Luca raised their weapons.

“I wouldn’t try it, pal,” Ranzal warned-only to be met with a hand from Elisanne. She shook her head.

“Let him through.”

Luca’s hand trembled on the bowstring. He held it for a few seconds, even as Ranzal lowered his axe. Eventually, he lowered the bow, gently loosening his grip and letting the arrow clatter to the ground. 

When Emile finally reached the coffin, his confident smirk had made way for something far more neutral. “Enough of this, brother.”

He received no response. His men looked at each other, their expressions slowly turning pallid. “Y-your highness, are you sure-”

“I said **_enough_ ** , brother!” Reaching for the cloth collar visible within the armor, Emile pulled Euden closer to him, to the horrified screams of the crowd. Cleo took a step back, resisting the urge to vomit at the sight before her. “This charade ends now! You and I both know there’s no way you could ever die, Euden!” His voice shook with each word, with those close enough to him just _barely_ spotting the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “Not before your dream was a reality! Not before you stopped the Empire-stopped **_me!_ ** You’re too **_stupid_ **to know when to quit, and not even the reaper himself could stop you! We both know this! So open your eyes, damn you!”

“Emile.” Elisanne’s voice was soft, but firm. “That’s enough.”

Emile continued to hold Euden’s collar, as if he were waiting for something. Anything.

Then, as he let go, his legs gave out, his knights catching him before he hit the ground. “He wasn’t supposed to die,” Emile muttered. “I really thought I’d live to see his rule, one day.”

Elisanne kneeled down, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, he briefly noticed. “So did we all.”

Emile’s knights watched in solemn silence as the sixth scion broke into unrestrained, uncontrollable tears.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Luca frowned as Emile sat in silence on the far end of the dining room, staring blankly at his meal. “I mean, we all feel for the guy, but what happens when Dyrenell comes looking for him?”

“I’m not, and I don’t know.” Elisanne watched as Emile’s guard dispersed, presumably headed to their new quarters. “But I would like to believe that he, and his men, will not make themselves so easily discovered.”

“Never figured _he’d_ be the only one to show,” Ranzal mused. “Valyx or Chelle, maybe, but not him.”

“Recent reports indicate that Valyx is currently on a campaign heading towards Northern Grastaea.” Lights darted across Laxi’s eyes, strings of numbers appearing in her iris. “Chelle was unable to attend due to the sudden nature of the wake, but a representative from Chanzelia has sent her request to attend the Halidom’s proceedings.”

Elisanne nodded. “Tell the representative she’s more than welcome.”

“Understood. I will relay the message.”

“Have we received word of Leonidas or, Goddess forbid, Phares?“ 

Laxi shook her head. “Leonidas is currently addressing disputes in Valkaheim, though local rumors indicate he has locked himself in his quarters for an unknown reason.”

The android’s eyes softened for a moment. **_> ”Unknown” might be inaccurate given the circumstances, Laxi…<_**

“Unknown to the populace, Mascula. We haven’t heard from our messengers, so word may not have reached beyond New Alberia just yet…” She glanced at Emile. “Present company aside.”

**_> As for Phares, we’ve heard nothing new about his whereabouts-at least, not since our last encounter.<_**

Cleo sighed, slumping into her chair. “I can only hope he sees fit not to darken our doorstep anytime soon. I would sooner believe he’d want to experiment on Euden than pay his respects…”

“I’ll send Vice to monitor the perimeter, for the next week at least.” Elisanne put a hand to her chin, tapping it with a finger. “We can have Lazry fortify the exits, or at least set up some kind of early warning system. Perhaps on our next visit to the Roost, we can ask Midgardsormr or Mym to-”

She felt a tap on her shoulder. “Um.” Turning around, Elisanne found Sarisse, nervously looking from her towards the door to the main hall. Two figures stood in the shadow of the archway, speaking to each other. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a couple visitors. They’re...asking to see Euden.”

Elisanne sighed. There were many who missed the wake who wanted to pay their respects, which was certainly appreciated-she just wished they had considered this possibility sooner. Then, perhaps, she would have been able to kindly ask visitors to wait a day.

Or longer.

However long it took for her to stop sobbing each time they entered his room.

Standing upright, Elisanne followed Sarisse to the doorway. The two visitors’ conversation came to an end as she approached. As she grew closer, she found herself fascinated by, of all things, their clothing. It seemed...for lack of a better word, unfamiliar. Most in the kingdom (let alone the citizens living in the Halidom) had simple clothes, basic shirts and slacks, or shorts that would allow for the manual labor required in the nearby farmlands. Perhaps the nobles would have some jackets and suits, but even those had a familiar, Alberian tinge to them. Between the flowing capes, the skintight clothing, the braided tassels, the singular leg guard…

Perhaps they were like their Hinomotan guests, travelers from a distant land. 

One, a woman with long white hair, held out a hand. “Hey there. Thanks for seeing us.”

The other, a man with violet hair equally as long as his companions, mimicked her actions. “We appreciate your hospitality.”

Shaking their hands, Elisanne closed her eyes. “It is nothing. It’s...what he would have wanted.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Hey, uh. You alright there?”

“Y-yes,” Elisanne replied, steeling herself for what was to come. Opening her eyes, she walked past the two, into the main hall. “Follow me. I’ll take you to where we’ve interned him.”

“Interned?” The man blinked, tilting his head. “Why would you imprison your leader?”

Elisanne paused mid-stride. “Impr…” She turned around. “I apologize, but…” Elisanne hated these kinds of conversations the most. “You _are_ aware of what occurred, are you not?”

The woman frowned, shaking her head. “‘Fraid not. We’ve only just arrived-we’ve been out of the loop for a little while.”

“I see…” Elisanne cleared her throat, her tone as serious as she could muster. “I...I regret to inform you that his highness, Prince Euden of New Alberia, Seventh Scion to the Alberian throne, has passed away.”

The two stared at her, jaws agape, as though she had told them the sky was purple. “Wait, wait, wait. He’s _dead?!_ ”

“I know this must be shocking to hear,” Elisanne began, “But I ask that you remain calm-”

“When did this happen?” The man asked, his focused stare piercing through Elisanne’s eyes. “We must know. _Now._ ”

“I-”

“Hang on, Mordecai-that’s no way to treat someone who’s going through loss.” The woman placed a hand on the man-Mordecai’s-shoulder. “She’s going through a lot. Like you were.”

“...you’re right. I apologize, Ilia.”

“We live and learn, buddy.” Patting his shoulder, the woman approached Elisanne, her face filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes, I’m f…” Elisanne blinked, trying to keep the tears from forming. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she repeated, breathing heavily. “Oh, Goddess,” she whispered.

She felt herself being pulled into the hug before she could even realize it. “Shh. It’s okay, it’s okay. I'm here.” The woman rubbed Elisanne’s back, the Paladyn-as undignified as could be, and Goddess-damn it all if she cared-sniffling into Ilia’s shoulder.

_...wait._

“I-I have to apologize again, but…” Elisanne pulled away from the hug, stepping a few feet back. “Your friend, Mordecai-”

The woman shrugged. “Eh, he’s kind of a friend, kind of a son. Long story.”

“Very long,” Mordecai agreed. “I’ve at most been able to shorten it to an hour or so, after some practice.”

“Hey, nice! That’s a whole ten minutes shaved off from last time.”

Elisanne cleared her throat again, the duo’s attention now back on her. “In any case, I must have misheard him earlier. I could have sworn he had called you Ilia.”

“No, you heard right.” Ilia crossed her arms, nodding towards Mordecai. “It was practically the first word he learned, so I’d be surprised if he messed that up.”

“...I see.” Elisanne frowned. “Then...your parents named you after the Goddess, then.”

Ilia’s eyes narrowed. “...see, there’s a funny story about that. Lemme try this whole introduction thing again. It’s been a while since I had to do it for real.” Placing a hand to her chest, Ilia closed her eyes. “I am the Goddess Ilia, she who has contracted with the great Holywyrm. I am here to answer your cries, o lost lamb.”

“And I’m Mordecai.” Mordecai paused, scratching his chin. “I haven’t come up with anything grand yet, but I’m sure I will eventually.”

Elisanne stared at the two. “I don’t find your blasphemy particularly amusing.”

  
“I know how it might sound, but trust me…” Elisanne gasped as Ilia’s eyes changed color, her irises taking on a familiar,  _ draconic _ appearance. “I’m the genuine article. Now, please...show me to my descendant.”


End file.
